


The very last day

by mimerswell



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: 1911, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, One Shot, Red Dead Redemption (2010) - Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimerswell/pseuds/mimerswell
Summary: A spiteful John Marston must seek assistance from his former brother in arms as the members of the van der Linde gang are being hunted, one after the other.During the few days they ride together, both try to reconcile with past mistakes as the very last day is coming for one of them.





	The very last day

**Author's Note:**

> So this was a one shot I wrote today since it just wouldn't leave my head. The title is from the song by The Hollies, for some reason that song triggered me to write this, without having any relevance whatsoever to the plot.
> 
> It's not a happy work, just so you know. 
> 
> Not really spoilers for the first game, but some minor mentions could be considered as such.

John Marston got to the town of Carlisle in the middle of the night, the rain was pouring down violently but he didn’t even made an effort of keeping himself sheltered. He motioned his horse to a slow walk as his eyes scanned the dark streets.

He was trying to locate the whores. There was always a few standing outside every saloon in every town, especially in this time of night. Because of the weather, he could see none and he tried to search for any sign that gave away the building he was looking for.

As he got to what could be called the center of town, what little hope he had was awakened as he could make out a lit up building to his left at the end of the street. As he got closer, drunken singing and hollering voices couldn’t be missed.

As Marston found himself outside the saloon, he hitched his horse to one of the posts, the animal probably pleased that a small roof was covering it from the rain.

He didn’t care much about his appearance as he opened the saloon doors and entered. A few heads turned at his direction but continued with whatever they were keeping themselves busy with. The whole saloon reeked of sweat, blood and what could be described as the smell of unhygienic sex.

The rain water from his hat and coat dripped all over the floor and his spurs clinged with each step he took. It was more crowded in the dim saloon than John had anticipated, given how dead this town seemed to be. The air was all thick with smoke from every man’s glowing cigarettes.

Each whore was busy with sitting at customer’s laps as the men played poker or five finger fillet. If the men were lucky to win some money they could hopefully afford a quick fuck in one of the room upstairs, not that the women were expensive around these parts.

Marston knew what face he was looking for and one particular individual caught his eyes but he couldn’t make out the man’s features since he had his back turned to him. Marston walked slowly to the bar, leaving a trail of water drops after him. He ordered a whiskey and continued watching the other man.

The man was playing five finger fillet by one of the tables and successfully by the look of it. Marston swallowed the whole content in the glass and grimaced. It tasted like piss.

“I thought I said _whiskey_ ”, John said to the bartender.

“Sorry friend, that's the best we got”.

Marston stared at the bartender for a few seconds, the latter becoming a bit nervous. “Ah, what the hell, give me another”, he finally said and watched the bartender hurry to it. He fished up five dollars and placed it on the counter. “Keep the change. I guess”, he said to himself mostly before he downed his second glass.

As he felt the liquor warm up his insides, he started to walk so he could see the opposite end of the table, several drunken men bumping into him in the cramped room on his way there. Marston kept his distance, only interested in making sure it was the man he was looking for, not interested to make contact. Yet.

The man had a lowered head, his hat covering the upper part of his face as he focused on hitting the knife between his fingers and not across them. John Marston didn’t see his whole face but it was him alright.

He leaned his side against one of the wooden pillars and lit up a cigarette with a match as he watched the man about to win the whole game.

“You looking for some company?” a light voice asked. John looked at the woman who started to caress her hand over his back and over his shoulder.

He took a long drag from the cigarette as he leaned his face closer to hers. “Maybe later”, he answered and blew the smoke to her face.

The whore waved it off and coughed slightly before she left him with an angry look on her face. John looked after her and started to chuckle.

As his eyes drifted over to the table again, he realised that the small exchange had made him lose sight of the man who was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit…”, John mumbled as he put out his smoke and hurried to the nearest man that had sat at the same table. “Did you happen to see where that man went? The one who won?”

The man looked surprised but pointed him in the right direction as he saw that John kept a hand rested on his Schofield revolver.

Marston moved up the stairs the man had pointed him to and as he got to the second floor, he was greeted by a small hallway painted in red. There were only six rooms, three on each side. He didn’t know which one the other had entered but noticed that one of the doors to the right was ajar.

Marston removed his revolver from its holster and held it tightly at his side as he walked closer to the door. He moved as quietly as he could with the boots he was wearing and carefully pushed the door open. The room was dark, the only light coming from a lit kerosene lamp on one of the walls. He took a few steps further into the room as he saw the coat the other man had worn hanging over a chair.

John was about to turn around by the realisation but was met with an arm wrapping around him from behind, keeping one strong hand against his throat. He felt the other man’s chest press tightly against his back as the muzzle of a pistol was pressed to his temple.

“Thought you could sneak up on me, huh?” the man whispered to his ear. John only smiled tauntingly even though he knew it couldn’t be seen by the other. He kept his calm and didn’t struggle against the man, only putting his gun back in its holster.

“Want me to put a bullet in your head?” the man continued with a low voice when John didn’t say anything. He pressed the muzzle harder to John’s temple.

“You would never shoot me, Morgan”, Marston spoke, knowing he was right. This made the grip around his throat lighten slightly and John turned his head, both their faces only inches away from the other in the dim room. Arthur met his eyes and they stared at each other for a few awkward seconds before Arthur released his grip over John’s throat and backed to the doorway.

John slowly turned around to face him and found that Arthur had put his pistol back in its holster. “You here to kill me, Marston, is that it?”

John huffed at the words before he let out a faint smile. “No…”, he answered and started to pace around, examining the room. “You live here or what?”

Arthur’s eyes followed the other man’s movement, his hand still rested on his pistol. Just in case.

“Why do you care?” Arthur answered and furrowed his brows.

John stopped in his movement and turned his head to him, tilting it slightly to the side. “I don't”, he said with a small raise of tone. “Just a thing called small talk, Morgan. But I remember now you’ve never been good at those sort of things”.

Arthur pushed the door to a close, only just now remembering it had been opened the whole time. John stopped at a painting hanging on the wall and studied it. It was just a red house on a hill but something in it seemed to have caught the man’s eyes.

“If you ain't gonna kill me then why are you here?” Arthur asked, trying to get an explanation.

John turned his head to him, giving a small smile. Arthur thought that maybe he should just shoot him on the spot, wipe that smirk off his face. “I’ve come…”, John started as he adjusted the painting to hang straightly. “...to ask for your help”.

Arthur frowned, drifting his hand away from the gun, crossing his arms. He lowered his head as he headed for the small desk in the room, half sitting on it when he got there. “You’ve come here…to ask _me_? For  _my_ help?” Arthur asked in disbelief, repeating the words just to make sure that Marston hadn’t lost it

John sighed. “Yes. Do you want the words to be spilled out a third time or do you understand the purport of them?”

Arthur raised his chin. “Help you with what?”

The question got John’s full attention, meeting Arthur’s blue eyes with his dark that glistened, despite the dimness in the room. He sat down on the bed, leaning back and resting an elbow to the mattress. “Someone’s after us, Arthur. Someone has come to kill us all”.

“What?” Arthur pushed himself off of the desk, taking a few steps closer to the man that met him with a serious expression on his face. “What do you mean _‘someone’s after us'?"_

John looked away, dragging out his silence as he heaved himself up from the bed and walked past Arthur. He walked up to the window, dragging the curtains to their sides so he could look outside where the rain was whipping down violently. “Trelawny’s dead”.

“Jesus, Marston. That don’t mean shit. I’m surprised he made it this fa-...”

“Micah...Karen...Jenny…”, John continued as he turned his head to face Arthur, not blinking once.

Arthur only stared at him dumbfounded. “When?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“A couple of months ago…two weeks ago was the latest”.

“How come you know this? 'Cause I hear you don't even run with the gang no more”.

“Charles came to me. He has, after all, been running with them ever since…you know”, John gestured with his hand and Arthur only nodded impatiently. “Said that each one had disappeared for a while only to be found dead. Murdered”.

Arthur didn’t answer, taking his time to process Marston’s sudden information.

John continued. “I didn’t believe him at first but he told me we had to find the rest of the ‘old’ gang.  _Your_ half. To warn them. Don’t know why he cares about you all, but I guess he’s got a kind heart”.

“Where is he? It’s been a while since I spoke to him”.

“You see…I don't know where he is. And that's what made me believe him. He told me to meet him in Harlow’s Creek but he never showed up. I waited around for a few days but…no Charles”.

“And what do you want me to do about it, huh?”

John lifted off his hat to stroke back the locks of hair that had escaped, covering half of his face. Arthur’s eyes lingered slightly before he looked away from him. “Fucking help me to find the rest of the gang. Javier, Bill, Hosea…Dutch…”. John observed the other man closely as he mentioned the last name. Arthur’s eyes flickered and he started to rub his stubble as he paced around.

“No…”, Arthur whispered almost inaudibly as he shook his head.

“No?” John almost laughed. “You can’t say no to me, Arthur. You know that”.

Arthur paused in his steps, meeting the other’s defiant eyes as the latter crossed his arms, lifting his chin.

“You owe me”, John continued. “Remember?”

Arthur tore his eyes away from the man, his hand dangerously close to draw his gun on the other. John took notice of it and rested his own hand on top of his revolver.

“Want to see who’s the fastest?” John asked with a challenging tone.

Arthur bit his teeth but let his hand rest against his side, moving away from the pistol. The action made John answer by doing the same. 

“Where do we go?” Arthur asked reluctantly.

“Bill Williamson”, John answered. He looked at Arthur carefully, studying his features. “Know where he is…?”

“Last I heard, he and Javier were holed up west of here”.

"Where?" John asked almost in an instant. 

Arthur crossed his arms once more. "Ain't 'west' good enough for you?" 

John lowered his eyes as though he was pondering over Arthur’s information. “We can leave in the morning”.

Arthur merely nodded. “Where will you sleep?”

“Not next to you, that's for sure”.

Arthur huffed at his words. “Wasn’t gonna ask you that. Only, I believe the rooms are full here and there’s no real hotel in this shithole of a town”.

“Rather sleep in the rain”, John answered as he headed for the door. “Besides, I don't need sleep right now”, he mumbled as he left Arthur standing alone in the room.

 

-

 

Arthur waited for Marston outside the saloon the next morning. He had no idea where the man had spent his night and none had decided a place to meet.

As an hour had passed, Arthur wondered if he shouldn’t just ride away as fast as he could but something held him back. He looked up to the sky, the sun was shining and the dirt ground was slowly drying, destroying all evidence of the rain the previous night.

Arthur was about to walk away right before he saw John make his way from the end of the street. Had he slept out of town? John had an ill-tempered look on his face and he moved forward without any respect of his surroundings, bumping into several people on his way, blocking the way for a wagon as well.

Arthur watched him with a frown and a hand rested on his waist. “Took you long enough”.

“Fuck off, Morgan”.

Arthur raised his brows at the man’s hostility but knew well enough that he deserved every bit of it and more.

"So where are we headed?" John asked. 

“Cherokee Run. It's a two days ride”, Arthur told him, much to John's surprise. 

“Is that _so_? We best leave right away then”, John answered with sarcasm.

Arthur breathed deeply but only fetched his horse.

 

-

 

Arthur looked at the map in his lap. John was sitting opposite of him, busy with warming two cans of food over the fire. “We’re very close, an hour or so”.

“Mmhm...but it’s kind of rude to just walk into their camp in the middle of the night. Could be dangerous too”.

“Like you did with me, you mean?” Arthur asked and looked up from the map.

John didn’t answer for a few moments, he only stirred the spoon in the cans. “Just...wait until morning... I need some sleep”.

Arthur didn’t question him. He knew better.

 

-

 

When Arthur awoke from the bad dream of her that still haunted him he found it to be close to morning and they should probably head out. He sat up in his bedroll and looked over to Marston, only problem was that he wasn’t even there.

“Marston?” Arthur called, looking around as he got up to his feet. “John!” he called after him again, a little louder this time.

He moved away from the makeshift camp they had made on a small cliff overlooking a small valley and started to investigate the area around them. Probably nothing to worry about, he thought to himself. John probably needed to piss or something. But still, he found himself to keep looking for him, moving down the small slope into the woods.

Arthur still found John’s claim about a killer on the loose to be ridiculous but something in him started to feel a worry spread through his body. He had just gone with Marston because there wasn’t any harm in warning the members even if they weren’t, in fact, in danger. Besides, he had nothing better to do with his time, considering his life had been quite pathetic these last few years.

John Marston had also used Arthur’s own guilt against him and like the man had said, he owed him. Arthur sighed at the memory of her, he didn’t regret what he had done, he only regretted the way things had turned out.

Arthur was deep in his thoughts as he walked further into the woods and he almost missed the sound of a twig being stepped on and broken in two behind him. He turned around and was met with a masked figure, he hadn’t the time to react before he felt a blow to his head and everything went black.

 

-

 

Arthur awoke with a shouting John shaking his whole body.

“Wake the fuck up!”

Arthur blinked slowly and he felt like his head was gonna explode. It was light outside and he had a hard time to fully open his eyes.

He felt a hard slap at his cheek and it made him a little more conscious. John finished his awakening efforts by pouring water all over Arthur’s face, making the latter to fully come to his senses.

“Finally”, John almost exclaimed.

“What the hell happened?” Arthur mumbled, lifting a hand to his head, examining the wound.

“He was here. At dawn. Took me by surprise as I went to take a leak”, John told him as he slowly rubbed the back of his head, grimacing with pain. “Guess he did with you, as well”.

“I saw him, he had a mask on his face…Don’t remember much more than that”, Arthur said as he heaved himself to sit up.

“We gotta move”, John stated and hurried to his feet. “Maybe it’s not too late”.

Arthur eyes widened by the realisation and he hurried up as well, both running back to their camp to get the horses. What Arthur couldn't figure out was why the man hadn't simply killed them. 

 

-

 

“Fuck”, John only said with a lowered head as they entered the hideout.

“Goddamnit!” Arthur exclaimed and gave one last look into the room before he turned around and left him.

John took a few steps closer to the spot on the floor, lowering himself to his knees. He looked at the tipped over chair and the blood that was still drying on the floor. “Sorry, Bill…Javier”, he spoke quietly and sighed.

John got up to his feet and walked to the back door. He opened it and settled on the steps, contemplating on what to do next.

 

-

 

Arthur scanned the area surrounding the small cabin. There was blood all over the place but no bodies to be seen. He wondered how it was possible for one man to cause this kind of damage, considering Bill and Javier’s gang had quite a few men running in it. This was more serious than he had thought.

John walked up to him, coming from behind the cabin with a somber look on his face.

“You gotta agree that there’s more than one”, Arthur said.

“Yeah, it seems so… Well, we’re too late anyways. They’ll be dead soon. No use in linger”.

“Don’t you want to track them down? What if it's _not_ too late?” Arthur exclaimed and grabbed John’s arm.

John looked at the other man’s hand for a second or two, only yanking his arm back from Arthur’s hold before fishing up a cigarette. He put it between his lips and Arthur only stared at the other incredulously as John continued with lighting the cigarette. 

“Better if we get to Hosea and Dutch”, John only said before he turned around and walked to their horses, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “Or you want it to be too late for them as well?”

"I doubt they would find their hideout...They're lying low in a place too secluded to know of", the fair headed man said more as a reassurement to himself. 

"We still need to warn them, Arthur". 

Arthur reluctantly started walking over to his horse and hopped on it. He watched John as the other mounted his own but didn’t motion it to move.

“What are we waiting for?” Arthur asked, a bit irritated.

“Well  _I_ don't know where they are? Thought you was the one running with them”.

Arthur frowned at his words, looking away from him. He kept his silence for a while as he pondered.

“Let’s go then”, Arthur finally said and motioned his horse to a walk.

John shut his lips into a thin line but followed Arthur anyways.

 

-

 

“Did she love you?”

Arthur flinched by Marston’s question and found any answer hard to formulate.

“Why speak of this, Marston? You know where it always leads”, Arthur answered but still slowed down his horse’s movement.

John snorted. “Yeah…Guess I just can’t forget about it…”, he said quietly.

Arthur lowered his eyes. “Yes…she loved me…And I loved her. That’s the truth I know and the only thing I can say about it”.

John tried to swallow the lump in his throat, holding back the tears he hadn’t cried for over a decade.

“When you left with Abigail and… _my son_ , I’d never wanted to kill anyone so badly. Wanted to kill _you”_.

“You almost did…”, Arthur recollected.

“You left with her love and returned with her remains…”.

Arthur blinked the single tear that escaped him, wiping it quickly from his cheek as he turned his face away from John.

“And the gang fell apart because of it”, John continued. “Dutch and Hosea choosing your side as always even after you left us and had the stomach to return, Dutch sending me and Jack away with half of the gang, bringing the other half with them. And for what? Abigail’s dead either way”.

“It wasn’t you that lost her that day!” Arthur yelled to him in anger. “You left both her and Jack when he was born! _I_ was the one to take care of them when you were gone. You never once treated them like family and Abigail wasn’t yours when we left!”

John felt ashamed when Arthur spoke what he himself knew was the truth.

“I’m sorry, John, but there's nothing you or me can do about it no more”, Arthur spoke as his final words over the matter.

John looked at him with tear-filled eyes as a silence rested upon them. Arthur shook his head shortly before he spurred his horse into a gallop, John following his lead.

 

-

 

They spent the whole day riding fast and hard, none of them trying to communicate with the other. As they took a pause and could sense that the atmosphere between them was as normal as it could get, John suggested they should stay the night at the town of Willow. The horses really needed to rest. 

Arthur reluctantly agreed to the suggestion, always weak to disagree with the man. He  _was_ pretty exhausted himself from the long ride, as much as he didn't want it to show. 

The town’s hotel only had one available room to rent and John sighed deeply as Arthur told him.

“Where are they anyways?” John asked as they entered their rented room, throwing himself on the bed.

“Why you so eager to know?” Arthur asked with a frown as he took off his hat and coat.

“Why are you so reluctant to tell me?” John asked back and put his hands behind his head as if he was expecting a good answer.

Arthur only shook his head at the man’s stubbornness, settling on the edge of the bed. “I don't exactly run with Dutch anymore. Well…I'm still part of what’s left of the gang, I think…but we drifted apart, you know? These last few years I can count on two hands how many jobs he’d let me in on. Maybe I’m getting too old”

“Well, you do have a few grays in your hair”, John answered, holding back a smile.

Arthur let out a small laugh and one escaped John’s lips as well. It was the first time since twelve years back he had seen a real smile form on John’s face.

“And Bill and Javier, they kinda formed their own gang, me jumping back and forth between them and Dutch. He’s been taking in new people but if there’s a big job we kinda work together, all of us. Long time ago now, though”.

“Wonder how things had looked like if the gang hadn’t split up. The old gang I mean”, John said as he opened a bottle of _good_ whiskey. He took a few sips and handed it to Arthur across the bed. Arthur gladly accepted the bottle and swallowed plenty.

“Well, Dutch made the choice to separate us right before that Blackwater job, remember?”

“Yeah, the one we never went through with. Micah’s grand plan”.

“Exactly, never thought it seemed like a good idea anyway…”, Arthur stated.

John nodded in agreement. “Hey, how’s the rest of them…?”

“Well, Tilly and Mary-Beth got out a while back. Mac and Davey are still with us, heard Lenny had became a lawyer actually, he left not long after…”.

Arthur kept telling him about everything that had happened over the years but John knew most of it, considering Charles often paid a visit to both Arthur and John, always the neutral one. He still let Arthur tell him about it though.

John found himself enjoying hearing Arthur talk, or maybe it was the booze that made him feel that way. A part of him would always hate Arthur for what he’d done but he still remembered how close they once had been.

As the time passed and the bottle was almost empty, Arthur had settled at John’s side and the two men found themselves lying on their backs very close to each other, their heads resting at the edges of the same pillow.

“How is Jack nowadays?” Arthur asked carefully as he emptied the rest of the bottle.

John swallowed, his eyes flickering by the mention of him. “Fine… We got a small place in West Elizabeth…haven’t run with the gang for years now but I guess you figured that one out, given your surprise of me knowing of the recent _events_...”.

“Yeah...Charles told me about it at the time... I think it was a good choice. For the boy, I mean…”, he spoke quietly as he rested his eyes on John’s chest, following the movement from his breathing. When he didn’t get an answer from the other he told him something else, something John wanted to hear. “They’re in the mountains north of here, a small village forgotten to most people. Quite secluded and surrounded by the biggest trees you’ll ever see. Whole place is covered with the whitest snow... ”, Arthur whispered, his eyes still rested at the same place. He drifted them upwards slowly and found that John observed him as well, already meeting his eyes as they got there.

None of the men looked away from the other and both found themselves to closely study the other’s features, perhaps seeing something they had missed before.

John blinked quickly a couple of times, looking away several times before his gaze locked with Arthur’s again. 

Arthur felt his heart beat a little faster in his chest and he could see that it did for the other man as well. John's lips formed words but very few sounds escaped them. He heard him whisper only ' _Arthur_ ' as a question. In both confusion and a form of plea. 

Arthur moved closer to John, turning his body so that his chest rested slightly on top of the other’s. John didn’t move away from his touch as Arthur slowly started to caress the outside of his thigh.

They never broke eye contact and John found himself to breathe as in a tremble when both could feel the atmosphere in the room become very emotionally loaded with both intimacy and _want._

Arthur moved up further, their lips so close they could almost feel the other’s. Arthur felt John’s hand on top of his as he moved it upwards along his body. He brushed his hand over John’s arm, making the latter to lift it to rest beside his head and let their fingers thread together carefully. 

Arthur was surprised how right it felt even if it shouldn’t. As if they were destroying all sense of logic they had ever learned in life and he wondered if John felt as confused as he did, given all the hate they had behind them. But most of all, he wondered if John wanted him as much in that moment as he wanted the other. In what way he didn't really know... but he wanted to find out. 

Arthur got closer, moving his hand to caress John’s cheek as he made the final move to unify their bodies. It never happened. John turned his head in the last moment, making Arthur kiss at the corner of his mouth.

Arthur closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to John’s face by the rejection. He lowered his head until he could bury it between John’s shoulder and neck.

John knew they couldn’t do this. Not now. _Never_...he thought and lowered his eyes, knowing exactly why they couldn’t. It would only make things worse for the older man when the time came. But still, he pulled Arthur closer to his body and they hugged tightly, a few innocent touches here and there until they fell asleep.

 

-

 

John Marston wasn’t at his side when he woke up and he quickly scanned the room for the other man. Arthur had overslept and he wondered why the other hadn’t woken him up.

Arthur dressed and headed outside. He cursed as he saw that John’s horse was gone. Why on earth would he head up there without him?

Arthur had a bad feeling the whole ride and he started to doubt John’s intentions all along, suspecting what he should have seen from the start.

 

-

 

Arthur walked with heavy steps into Dutch’s camp. As he found himself in the middle of it, he dropped down to his knees in the snow. He saw the trails of blood, just like in Bill’s camp. They had fought back.

“Guess we’re too late, huh”.

Arthur quickly turned his head to his right. John Marston walked slowly, his hand holding his revolver at his side.

“What have you done, John?” Arthur whispered.

John looked away, almost looking ashamed. “I didn’t want to… but I had to”.

Arthur was ready to draw but John raised his gun quicker, aiming it at his head. Arthur moved his hand away from the pistol as John approached him slowly and Arthur’s eyes only followed his movement.

“They took Jack from me, Arthur… Said they would kill him if I didn’t help them bring down Dutch and his gang”.

“Who did?” Arthur asked in a burning rage, his breathing becoming more rushed.

“The bureau…some Ross feller. Guess leading an honest life doesn't work out for everyone…”, John spoke in sadness. “There was never any murders”, he said and shook his head. “But you wouldn’t have helped me otherwise”.

Everything made sense now, Arthur reluctantly realised. John had been doing the agency's dirty work all along, letting them know of the members’ whereabouts before the two of them even got there. And he had been foolish enough to tell John all he needed to hear.

“Sorry I hit you in the head. I needed to buy time for them as they headed for Bill and Javier’s hideout…”, John told him with a low voice. “Charles, Micah, Jenny and the rest...they’re fine. Wasn’t them the bureau was after. They’re not exactly as big as the great Dutch and his gang”.

“You’re sick, you know that?” Arthur spat out in contempt as he could feel the tears sneak up on him.

He could see the sorrow in John's eyes, he could see that the man _hated_ himself. He should hate John too...but what does one do when your child is taken from you? 

“You’re gonna kill me now, John?” Arthur asked and lowered his head. 

“There’s no need. But I have to turn you in. You’re the last one… Otherwise, I don't get to see Jack…”.

Arthur nodded to the words, slowly accepting that either he had to kill John or John would have to kill him. 

“Last night…”, Arthur started, remembering it all in that moment. 

John’s eyes filled with tears and started to flicker by the mention of it. He shook his head slowly like he didn’t want to hear it as he lowered his eyes, the tears rolling down his cheeks.

“What we felt that moment. Was it just another lie...?” Arthur asked, demanding an honest answer.

John met his eyes again, holding his blue in his dark. “No…”, he whispered. “...that part was real, as short lived and confusing as it was”, he smiled.

Arthur smiled back, despite it all. He took a few deep breaths as he decided for John. “Well, you know I would never shoot you…and I would never come willingly…”.

John nodded to his words, closing his eyes as more tears escaped him.

“And you’ve got a son to return to…”.

John walked slowly until he stood in front of Arthur, his gun still aimed at him.

“Well... you know what to do”, Arthur said as his last words.

Their eyes locked one last time before John pulled the trigger, watching the other man fall back to the ground.

John let out the breath he’d been holding and felt his stomach turn before he walked away from Arthur’s body with shaky legs. He dropped the revolver to the ground and left the area. He had to meet with Agent Ross now, just like he had the days that had passed, sneaking off when Arthur had been asleep.

If they wanted his body, they would have to get it themselves. He wasn’t doing anything for them anymore. He had done everything they had asked and now it was time to return home.

He promised himself that he would leave with Jack. Take them to Canada, perhaps. Just far away from here. From all of this. Once more.

 

-

 

When John embraced his son he was reminded of why he had done it all, making the guilt feel a little less heavy.

He had brought Arthur’s horse with him, giving it to Jack. They packed quickly and didn’t look back to the place they had called home these last few years.

In the course of only a few days, despite their history, Arthur had become as a part of John and for the rest of his long life he would always wonder how things could have been like if the circumstances had been different.

**Author's Note:**

> I always find it interesting to think of how different everything could have been, if this and that had or hadn't happened, I'm sure you noticed a few examples. Maybe it's not that probable that the Bureau went after John in this au but let's just say they didn't manage to get to another member so he would have to do, or something. I'm sure there a few more plotholes but hey, I'm not into perfection. 
> 
> The reason why I didn't give more backstory to Abigail's death was because I found it odd that John or Arthur would mention any details, considering both knew what happened and mostly all information of their past is presented through their dialogues. I decided for myself how it went down but feel free to interpret her fate any way you like. 
> 
> Also, please feel free to leave a comment if you liked this. If not, I’m glad you gave it a shot at least :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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